


Wreckage

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief, Implied Drug Use, Mourning, Pining, canon character death, spoilers for episode 120
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 23:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16314983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: Basira and Martin clear out some of their friends' flats.





	Wreckage

**Author's Note:**

> Getting back into the swing of things by writing some good old-fashioned angst.

There’s no one else left for it so there’s nothing they can do; some of their two weeks’ leave will be spent clearing out flats. Tim’s place is first; luckily for them he ascribed to a fashionable kind of minimalism. A capsule wardrobe: off to the charity shop. Same with his trendy couches and his futon and his le creuset. There was no question of reusing them. Martin feels his absence everywhere but that’s better than feeling that he’s still around. He keeps expecting to hear his footsteps on the stairs. There’s his desk at work, too, but Rosie promised to take care of that. 

There was really only the dust and rubbish to take care of. Tim Stoker of the organic smoothies and fair-trade coffee in an eco-cup had been surviving off takeaways. He’d completely neglected any sort of cleaning. Almost every surface that wasn’t covered in junk food containers was covered in grey dust and grime. But Basira, ever sensible, said that they’d just hire someone to do the cleaning and then take it out of the bond or bill the institute. She’d demanded that Mr. Lukas take care of any difficult phone calls and he agreed in his calm way, not a flicker of emotion reaching those watery grey eyes.

It almost made Martin miss Elias’s gleeful spite. 

“Everything that we can’t recycle or send to the charity shop gets binned,” Basira says. They’re standing in Tim’s bedroom, staring down at his bed. There are pill bottles scattered across his bedside table. She catches Martin staring at them. 

“Wait until you see Daisy’s stash. It’s quite something.”

“She never seemed...well. She always seemed fine when I spoke to her. As fine as she ever was.”

Basira picks up a bottle and shakes it.

“She stopped after she started working at the Institute.” She picks up another one. Something rattles inside it. “She said she didn’t need them anymore. That was the scariest thing, you know?”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“It’s when I knew I was losing her,” Basira says, quietly. “When she stopped needing valium to sleep and whiskey to calm down and god knows what to get her up in the morning. Whatever the institute was doing to her -”

It was enough to replace her addictions, Martin thinks. Something stronger, more intoxicating. 

Martin wonders what it must feel like to lose someone who was yours. And it’s not like Jon is lost so much as he isn’t coming back any time soon and the last time he spoke to Peter Lukas there were tears streaming down his face and the man looked at him so hungrily Martin thought the man would lean over and lick his cheeks -  
“That Inspector,” he says, while Basira goes through the pill bottles, “asked me if I wanted to go and get a drink with him.”

“Which one?” she asks. She’s decanting the ones with pills still in them into a small ziplock bag. 

“Tall? Sort of blond? Really eager to smash Elias’s head in?”

“Hmm,” Basira says. “That could be a lot of people.” She looks at him. “Don’t worry, these are for Melanie. Should take the edge off a bit.”

“She’s not talking to me at the moment.”

“Well, you did cockblock her murder attempts.”

“I didn’t want to die just because Melanie’s gone all slaughter on us -” Martin says. “No- that’s unfair.”

“Trying to keep Melanie from killing the rest of us because of her hate-on for Elias? That’s fair.” 

“I guess,” Martin says. “I’m going to tackle the kitchen.”

He hesitates when he gets to the fridge but there’s nothing in there but soy milk and some evil-smelling tofu. Filth, he thinks. The Lonely. After their leave he’s going to go through all of the tapes, right from the beginning. Jon had given him the cliff notes version before...well, before, but he needs to know, needs to understand. So when Jon wakes up they can talk about things properly. Work out what their next move is going to be. If nothing else he’d be able to hear Jon’s voice again. 

Basira had asked for copies of all the ones which had Daisy on them. That would be hard; she only ever appeared in snippets. Perhaps Martin could make her a mixtape: your murderer girlfriend, the greatest hits. He assumes they were dating, anyway. At the very least there was some sort of unhealthy emotional attachment. Not that he’d know what that was like.

*

Whilst Tim’s flat was minimalist Daisy’s is spartan. It’s no cleaner but Basira insists on doing this herself, and Martin can help, if he wants. Martin thinks back to his own place which desperately needs a tidy but he also doesn’t want to be alone. 

“Just ask before you throw anything out,” Basira says. She looks at him and they both know and for once Martin doesn’t need to say anything. 

There’s nothing much to throw out. Daisy was surprisingly conscientious about recycling; there are quite a few bottles of booze but they’re all clean and sorted. There are two mugs, two plates, two sets of knives and forks, and two wine glasses. Then there’s two towels. Two sets of bedding. Two toothbrushes by the sink. And a veritable pharmacy in the kitchen drawer, where normal people would keep spatulas.

“Is that cocaine?” Martin asks as Basira pulls out a small bag containing white powder. 

“Shall we try it and see?” Basira laughs when she sees his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll turn this over to some of the Sectioned officers I still talk to.”

“To destroy it?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Nah, Inspector Bryant called dibs. We can keep the weed, though.”

“No thanks,” Martin says, flushing. God, he’s so stupid. “I don’t.”

“Why not? What are you afraid of? Losing your job? Your Mum finding out?”

“Don’t,” Martin whispers. He can feel the tears start. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Basira genuinely sounds it. “That wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t just unfair. It was cruel.” He feels better for having said it. “You know what? You can finish doing this yourself.”

“Martin-”

It feels so good to be the one who walks away. Even if there’s nowhere for him to go.


End file.
